Perestroika in KGB
by countezz
Summary: To move forward with the changes one must sometimes erase first the less honorable cards of the past. Russia at the end of USSR. Inspired by song.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Axis Power Hetalia nor _The Internationale_

**Edit: **Cleared some mistakes and edited the ending. Many thanks to **musubi7** for helpful suggestions :) Enjoy the new improved version.

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The massive building seemed abonded. Dark windowless halls, full with crowds of hurrying officers and dignitaries so short time ago now were silent and peaceful. The floor was littered in stray sheets of paper left by the previous occupants of now empty rooms.

Belarus sighed. An unusual frown appeared on her normally stoic face as she walked through the empty corridors carrying not so light mountain of various documents and files. She was tired and hungry. She wanted to go home, take a shower and snuggle in bed with her favourite 'Ivan-chan' doll. Fortunately it was the last part of archives she had to deliver to the basement.

Two levels down later she arrived at least to the first underground level. Of course this wasn't the last one, oh no. But there was no reason to visit lower ones any longer since last of the occupants were moved to different location or freed. The only inhabitants of Lubyanka's famous cells were now rats and spiders.

The end of the small dark corridor was basket in orange glow streaming from slightly opened metal doors. Belarus nudged them open with her foot. There greeted her sight of a large man dressed in an uniform's pants, white shirt with rolled up sleeves and black leather riding boots, sitting on a stool before large heat furnace. The already small space was stuffed with mountains of paper. Several empty bottles littered the floor. The smell of smoke with trace of alcohol hanged in the unbearably hot air.

"Brother I brought you the last ones" said Belarus in stern voice. The stench and temperature were starting to worsen her headache. Right now she only wanted to leave. She couldn't understand how her brother could withstand being in boiler room for the whole day. But seeing empty bottles lying on the floor she had a faint idea why.

"Good. Leave them where you want. " said Ivan not even looking at his sister. He stirred the burning material in the furnace with long iron poker. Batch of sparks shot into the air. "I'll take care of them later"

Belarus stared at him for a moment till he glared at her over his shoulder. She quickly dropped bunch of paper she was carrying onto the floor and marched out of that stuffy place. Clearly her brother wasn't in the mood for any interaction.

Meanwhile in the boiler room Russia took a small sip from the cup he was holding in his left hand while throwing with his right another set of documents. The paper burned quickly, turning into a pile of ash in the matter of seconds. He threw inside another files. He repeated the process every minute, occasionally stirring flames with his poker. He didn't even read countless names and locations written on the documents. He knew what they were all about. There was no reason why he should remember them. It was all in the past. The past that had to be destroyed to move forward in the process of changes.

_When history will be burnt the card will be clean_

Ivan took another sip from the cup and stared hard into the fire. He could swear that if wasn't so drunk right now he would be sincerely moved at the sigh. Years of work, torture, pain, blood and screams where now wasted away in the blazing inferno. The sentences, interrogation reports, protocols. He sighed "If only Stalin or Beria could see this…"

Russia shook his head. Maybe drinking vodka while sitting in this damned stove wasn't the best idea. He was getting sentimental . What he wouldn't do now to go out. The field of sunflowers, delicate smell of sea breeze, warm rays of sunlight on his face…

He opened his eyes. Apparently his mind decided to shut off for few seconds. He fed the fire last bunch of paper and closed the flap. It was enough for today. The ash from all the documents he burned today had to by removed from the furnace and it had to cool off if he didn't want to risk an explosion. But looking at the mountain of documents still waiting for they turn Ivan realized he would have to come back here for at least four days. Oh well, at least Belarus won't be having occasions to stalk and molest him.

As he poured last of his aqua vitae into the cup something crossed his mind. "What was that saying Ludwig used so often ?" Ivan took small sip. He welcomed the burning sensation in his throat. It washed that annoying feeling."Ah yes…Befehl ist Befehl." Command is command. No disobedience will be tolerated. Russia understood this.

He wondered what will happen now. Would they destroy the building ? Hardly. It was a monument after all. Symbol of the passing age. Maybe they will turn it into a hospital or hotel or museum. Small smile touched his lips at that thought. Lubyanka, museum of terror. He could bet that Beria never dreamed that his precious arrest would end like this. His eyes watered and lone tear escaped his lest eye. He wiped it quickly. Stupid smoke. Too much of it. Time to go.

He waited till the blazing fire became pile o hot ash and ember. Ignoring the soreness in his muscles he stood up and walked out, locking the heavy metal doors. He would do the cleaning tomorrow. All that he wanted right now was sleep. Very long sleep. Filled with dreams of sunflowers.

The rats were escaping from his path as he made his way through underground corridors in complete darkness. He had no need for light, he knew this halls like the back of his hand. Though there were no screams penetrating the air and only faint smell of old blood, he felt like in the old times. He brightened up a bit. Those were pretty good times. For him. He couldn't say that for the other occupants. When he stepped out of the building cold November air hit him with force. It cooled his head down a bit and helped to clear his dimmed thoughts . And he suddenly felt like singing. Clearly, the beginning of the end deserved a song.

As he walked away, darkness and silence surrounding him he sang with clear, powerful voice

"My nash my noviy mir postroim, Kto byl nichem, tot stanet vsem…".

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**A/N** Wow, my longest fanfiction so far, over 1000 words. I planned it for less but my muse just wouldn't listen. Story was inspired by the polish song _Perestroika in KGB_ by Jacek Kaczmarski. The translation of _The Internationale_ lyrics can be found on the almighty Wikipedia, great help to all authors :)

Please leave a reviev before leaving !


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